


The heart wants what the heart wants

by Keepoffthegrass



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, F/M, M/M, Suicide, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:25:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepoffthegrass/pseuds/Keepoffthegrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has always been in love with Sherlock and he thinks that Sherlock may have felt the same, but as neither one of them said anything the chance passed them by. John married Mary and shortly after Sherlock died; but as John reconnects with him in dreams he spends more and more time sleeping but he can't sleep forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i own nothing except the idea.  
> first supernatural fic ever and first (and only lol) reinbach fic...

  
  
Staring at the simple tombstone through a haze of tears John suddenly realised, with blinding clarity, that all he wanted in life lay in the cold damp earth before him. Next to him his wife Mary shifted her weight nervously and the black marble reminder of a brilliant life cut short, _like a cold star burnt out, burn the heart out of you_ , echoed the black empty hollowness John’s life would now become.  
  He allowed himself to be led home; no not home for in his heart that was still 221b, _to the house he shared with Mary, yes that was better_ , to begin his new life of crying and remembering, dreaming and regretting.   
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..  
  
 John had been in love with Sherlock for a long time and he was sure that on occasion he had caught him looking at him with something akin to hunger in those opal eyes, but Sherlock had never said or done anything to suggest that he wanted more than what they had so John had kept silent-better a little then nothing at all and what they shared was something precious and fragile and rare.  But still something was missing and John had needs so he had dated, and if the women he pursued the most enthusiastically had dark hair and light eyes, well what of it? It is for the God’s to understand these things.  Everything changed with Mary however; yes she was tall and pale, but John started to appreciate her for her own charms and merits; she was thoughtful and witty, and best of all she didn’t try and come between John and Sherlock, nor had she let herself be scared off by Sherlock. Weeks turned into months and the months became a year.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
As the time went on it was inevitable that Mary would want to get married-women always need to know WHERE the relationship was going, as though life was a road map or a monopoly board. After a month of getting dragged to jewellery shop windows the penny dropped for John and he had spent a pretty penny on an engagement ring.  
 He had broken the news to Sherlock one night just before he had gone to bed, on one boring ordinary night; he had deliberately paused right after, giving Sherlock a window of opportunity-now was the time, if Sherlock had anything to say it was now! But he had simply congratulated John and turned back to his experiment. The next day however John noticed a change; something in Sherlock’s eyes that hadn’t been there before, and he struggled all day to put his finger on it like a tongue worries at a loose tooth. Finally at the end of his shift it came to him: Sherlock’s eyes were guarded like they had been when they had first met, shutters firmly pulled down, and the realisation of what that meant came crashing down on John; he had been allowed entry, the shutters had been raised for him and him alone. Sherlock had identified him as friend not foe. But now that had changed, now it was all over.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..........  
  
John twitched restlessly in his sleep, caught in memories of his wedding day.   
     
John took the time to watch Sherlock as he huddled in a corner with Mycroft. Unbelievably he looked even more arresting than usual, dressed as he was for the event. Even his curls looked semi-tamed which made John smile.  Mycroft said something and Sherlock looked furious. He was about to walk off but Mycroft took his elbow and drew him back and fury turned to a resigned nod. John and Mycroft both frowned as Sherlock grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter and downed it in one before heading John’s way.  
  
“John” Sherlock hugged John, a little clumsily but no less heartfelt. Stunned but warmed John patted him on the back before giving in and embracing him properly. Sherlock sighed tremulously, momentarily tightening his grip on John before stepping back.  
  
“I wanted to give you your wedding gift before I go” Sherlock handed over two plane tickets. “I took the liberty of arranging your honeymoon. I hope Venice will suit?”  
  
“Sherlock I can’t accept this. It’s too much. Wait what do you mean before you go? How much champagne have you had?”   
  
“Not enough” Sherlock let out a short humourless bark of laughter. “I’ll be fine John I always am”  
  
John whimpered and tossed and turned in his sleep as he remembered that shortly after Moriarty had plunged his world into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end. Contains suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't great, I have no experience writing ghost stories and it turns out I'm not very good at them :P

As John forced himself to mechanically eat a piece of toast one morning, he reflected on how his latest dream was different from the rest; normally it would be like watching a film as they replayed actual events, but last night was like seeing a bright white room which Sherlock had just walked into.  John had no conscious memory of seeing Sherlock in such a space, but, as he put the mostly uneaten bread down, he conceded that the half bottle of white wine had made things somewhat fuzzy.  
  
Suddenly said bottle flew off the table sending Mary rushing in.  
  
“I didn’t do it” John automatically said as she looked at him with pity and concern.  
  
“Perhaps not but you certainly drank it” Mary frowned as she cleaned up broken glass. “I know you…cared about him, but this is getting out of hand John! You barely eat and now you’re drinking. You were meant to be back at work last week…you can’t go on like this. We can’t go on like this”  
  
“You’re right. I know you’re right, I just can’t believe he’s gone. I can’t…” John drew in a shaky breath.  
  
“See a grief counsellor please; it isn’t a crime to ask for help.” At Mary’s pleading John reluctantly nodded.  
  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
It started with small things when Mary was out; papers left open on a certain page, alcoholic drinks smashed, and on one memorable occasion food pushed towards him. It was as though in death there had been a complete role reversal. John was distantly aware that he was probably doing all those things himself but he couldn’t muster up the energy to care, not when he was as happy as he could be under the circumstances.

“So do you reckon I should see a grief counsellor then? Give me a sign Sherlock, any sign”  
  
Nothing.  
  
John sighed then smiled “I get it; you want me to be happy and healthy but you don’t want me to forget about you, that right? Once for yes twice for no”  
  
The light switched on once.  
  
“I could never forget about you Sherlock, never! God I just wish I could do things over….I wish I could be having this conversation face to face for a start”  John left the room, preferring to stare blankly at the bedroom wall then face the kitchen where his sanity seemed to hang by a thread. When he did return he found one word written messily in salt on the kitchen table:  MARY  
  
“Mary isn’t you Sherlock. She never was and she never will be”  
  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
John heard nothing from ‘Sherlock’ for the next few days and it was like losing him all over again. He was irritable and snappy and he couldn’t explain to Mary why. At the end of one spectacular argument that went along the lines of ‘this isn’t how I imagined married life would be’ and ‘you married me not him’, Mary announced that she would be staying with her parents for the weekend and the second she got back they would be seeing a therapist.  
   John crawled into bed as soon as the front door slammed.  
  
“John! Can you hear me John?”  
  
Sherlock was in the white room again.  
  
“I can hear you Sherlock but how…?”  
  
“Even I can’t tell you that, all I know is that being dead is intolerable! You couldn’t see or hear me…when you’re sleeping is the only time I can communicate with you, the only way I can be with you”  
  
“I thought you left me again” John sighed.  
  
“I didn’t die on purpose John” Sherlock pointed out in his infuriating wonderful superior way.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
In dreams John spoke of all those things he should have said while Sherlock was alive but never had the courage to-how he loved him, he had always loved him, how he shouldn’t have married poor Mary  who was innocent in all this, how if he hadn’t of married Sherlock wouldn’t have been chasing Moriarty by himself  and thus would still be alive. He spoke of his guilt and inconsolable grief, of regret and recrimination.  
  
“You have to wake up now John”  
  
“Don’t want to” John mumbled.  
  
“Ssh. When you next sleep, I’ll be here”  
  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
John spent Sunday watching boring TV and drinking Horlicks in a bid to feel tired quicker. By nine he was ready for bed.  
  
“Sherlock?”  
  
“I’m here John”  
  
After talking for a while of recent news; namely Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, John asked the question that had haunted him: what had Sherlock and Mycroft been talking about at his wedding.  
  
Sherlock sighed deeply and wistfully. “I was planning on marching over to you and coming clean about my feelings. Mycroft told me I had to let you go, that I had toyed with you enough”  
  
“He had no right to do that! You should never have listened to him”  
  
“Believe me I know; as I was dying the thing I regretted most, other than having made a mistake naturally, was not having told you when I had the chance”  
  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..........  
  
Mary returned on Tuesday. John went back to work, albeit on reduced hours (to steal sleeping tablets). He saw a counsellor once a week and told her everything was fine, he was getting better (it made Mary happy and kept her off his back).  
 A couple of months in and a good stash later, John went away for a ‘weekend medical conference in Bath’  
  
  
“You can’t waste your life sleeping John and I don’t know how long I can keep visiting you…Mycroft’s advice may not have been much use then but it is pertinent now-I have to let you go again”  
  
“No! Please God no. I can’t live without you Sherlock, don’t you dare make me!”  
  
“You have your whole life left to live, I’m sure you could be happy with Mary…”  
  
“If I can’t live without you then I may as well die to be with you. It makes sense…”  
  
As soon as John woke he wrote a quick note to Mary detailing how very sorry he was and that she had nothing to worry about as he had already made a will some time ago. Envelope sealed he emptied the remaining pills into a paper cup along with the contents of the hotel mini-bar and saluted the empty room.  
  
“Didn’t you know Sherlock?, with me you get forever” 


End file.
